


quiet nights poured over ice and tanqueray

by miss_minnelli



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drunk Crowley (Good Omens), Drunk Texting, Exes, F/F, Getting Back Together, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Aziraphale (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26574046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_minnelli/pseuds/miss_minnelli
Summary: Hurtling quickly past tipsy, Crowley sends a desperate text to her ex-girlfriend, Aziraphale, reminiscing about what might have been.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 77
Collections: ineffable wives or female presenting





	quiet nights poured over ice and tanqueray

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a short dialogue prompt set on tumblr and I just ran away with it!
> 
> Title is from Troye Sivan's FOOLS.

Crowley was drunk. Not too drunk that she didn’t know what she was doing, but drunk enough that she could use it as an excuse if it didn’t go well. And it wasn’t going to go well.

Drunk-texting your ex-girlfriend never went well, was never a good idea. Rest assured, Crowley was well aware of this, but she was doing it anyway. 

She had questions that she couldn’t ask out loud, and she wanted answers. 

**Crowley** : do you even think about me anymore angel?

 _What kind of a thing is that to say to someone?_ Crowley berated herself. _Especially to someone who was happily partnered with another woman_. Throwing down the phone on the couch, fully not expecting an answer until at least tomorrow, maybe never, Crowley took another swig from the near-empty bottle of whiskey. 

To her surprise, her phone buzzed moments later. 

**Aziraphale** : Of course I do.

Great.

This was somehow both the answer Crowley wanted and not at all what she was looking for. On the one hand, it was good. An admission that Aziraphale thought about her, even though they hadn’t spoken in four months. On the other hand, it wasn’t everything Crowley’d hoped for. Of course, what Crowley had hoped, deep inside, was unrealistic. Aziraphale wasn’t going to suddenly appear in front of her and declare her undying love. 

Well, this was better than nothing. A sane, sober person would have left it there, with the knowledge that yes, Aziraphale thought of her. Yes, she’d made an impact on someone’s life. 

But Crowley wasn’t feeling sane or sober.

 **Crowley** : you just  
**Crowley** : you look so happy. like on insta  
**Crowley** : i don’t want to ruin that for you  
**Crowley** : i wish you missed me as much as i miss you  
**Crowley** : i know we were never official but i know i loved you

She chugged the rest of the whiskey. This was definitely a bad idea. She should probably just turn off her phone before Aziraphale could answer and confirm how much she didn’t miss or love Crowley. Better yet, she should chuck it out the window. 

Before she had a chance to do either of those things, Aziraphale responded. 

**Aziraphale** : Don’t move. 

Uh, right. This night was shaping up to be more confusing than Crowley could have predicted. 

Crowley spread out on the couch, and did as she was told. She could only assume that Aziraphale meant to text her again, or maybe call her, so she didn’t want Crowley to go to bed or whatever. However, she hadn’t said Crowley couldn't wallow in self-pity, so she set about doing that. Unfortunately, she was far too tired and the alcohol settling in her veins caused her eyelids to droop. 

  
  


Three hard knocks on the front door of her flat woke Crowley abruptly. She glanced at her phone. She’d been asleep for fifteen minutes. It was now half-past eleven on a Saturday night. There were really only a few people who could be at her door right now. 

  1. Beez- No, couldn’t be, they were on holiday
  2. Her mother- Unlikely, seeing as they weren’t speaking right now.
  3. A murderous burglar- But why would a burglar knock before entering?
  4. Aziraphale- Oh, shit.



Crowley looked like the personification of death, and she had definitely not been expecting company, so she really wasn’t wearing very much in the way of clothing. 

“Just a minute!” she called, and scurried to her bedroom to grab a dressing gown to cover her tiny shorts and cropped sleep top. 

Crowley made her way back to the sitting room and opened the door. Her mind wasn’t functioning properly, so the first thing out of her mouth when she saw Aziraphale was, “‘M drunk.” _Great job, very suave_. 

Aziraphale ushered Crowley into her own sitting room and shut the door, but didn’t say anything, so Crowley spoke again.

“Didn’t know this is what you meant by ‘don’t move.’”

Again, nothing. 

Crowley finally got some semblance of her wits about her. “What are you doing here, ‘Ziraphale?” she asked, as Aziraphale coaxed her into taking a seat on the sofa.

Aziraphale didn’t sit down next to her. Instead, she started pacing, and honestly, it was making Crowley dizzy. She closed her eyes, and the next time she opened them, probably a minute later, Aziraphale was perched in front of her, sitting on the coffee table. Her face was level with Crowley’s and there were tears in her eyes. 

Crowley reached out to cup Aziraphale’s cheek, but thought better of it quickly. “What’s wrong, Zira? Why are you crying?”

Aziraphale leaned closer into Crowley’s personal space. “You said you miss me more than I miss you. That’s not true. I miss you with my whole being.” There were tears running down her cheeks now. “I love you, Crowley. I’m so in love with you, it hurts.” She leaned even closer towards Crowley and took one of her hands. “Please believe me.”

Crowley wanted nothing more than to lean in another few inches and kiss the living daylights out of Aziraphale, but there was an extra person in this equation that she couldn’t forget about. Using all her willpower, Crowley leaned back and took a breath. “I thought...what about Clara? You looked so happy together, from what I saw, anyway. I- I can’t be some kind of...other woman…”

Shaking her head, Aziraphale said, “No, no. We broke up last month. She could tell I was hung up on someone else...but I didn’t know how to tell you, since we were never quite _together_. But no, there’s no one else, Crowley, just you. It’s only you for me.”

“I-“ Crowley faltered. She was rapidly sobering up, but there was another sort of haze descending upon her, which, she realized with a start, was love. “I fucking love you, angel.”

Aziraphale grinned through her tears. “Thank god,” she whispered, and then she closed the distance between them. 

When Aziraphale kissed her, Crowley felt as though no time had passed since that first time their lips had touched, all those months ago. Crowley’s hand found its way up into luscious blonde hair. Her angel’s lips were soft, but insistent as she sucked gently on Crowley’s bottom lip. Aziraphale drew Crowley’s lip in between her teeth and the subtle pain caused a wounded noise to espcase without permission.

The kiss was broken by Aziraphale, who seemed a bit concerned by Crowley’s whimper. They were both surprised to find that Crowley was crying, but Aziraphale wiped away her tears with sweet fingertips. 

“It’s okay, my love, I’m here,” she cooed. 

Crowley withdrew her hand from Aziraphale’s hair and clasped their hands together again. “Can I- can I call you mine, this time, angel?”

Aziraphale’s eyes watered at this, but her soft smile broke out into a grin that could have lit up the whole bloody city block. “Always, my dear. I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.”


End file.
